Paper Tiger
by ElephantTea
Summary: A story in which a Medic finds the courage to live with his past, with a side lesson in not taking candy from strangers. Comments are welcome. Tell me what you think, because I can't read your mind! This work of fan fiction is based on the Valve game 'Team Fortress 2'. Valve owns the characters, setting, and game, all copyrights to the material belong to them.


He was young, barely twenty-five years of age, but that didn't stop the ambitious Wilhelm Akkerman from joining RED. He grew up in Michigan, after he and his parents fled from The Netherlands. His father wanted him to be a dairy farmer like himself, since Wilhelm was an only child and someone needed to carry on the farm after his father could no longer do so. The boy had other interests, though, coupled with a boundless curiosity. He worked hard at school, and decided on a career in medicine.

He was fresh out of medical school, and hadn't even finished his first year practicing before he made his way to an interview with RED's top executives in New Mexico. In hindsight, this was a mistake; he was far from perfect for the job. Many of the others competing for the position as RED's newest Medic were older, more experienced doctors. Most looked to be about thirty-five or forty. His heart sunk when he first saw his competition, there was no way he would make the cut. He didn't have the experience, he didn't have the confidence, and he didn't have the fortitude.

But he wanted this position more than anything, and he had a few things his competitors didn't have. For one, he had his youth. He also had his ambition, which had carried him thus far. Finally, he had something most of his opponents had lost long ago: a medical license. Yes, he was not as mature as the others, but that was part of the reason he was selected.

With all the elation of a student that had just passed a test with flying colors, Wilhelm Akkerman packed his few belongings and prepared for the impending journey to the place they called 'Granary'. He packed his toothbrush, nightclothes, reference books, coat, tools… and Samson. He had been discouraged from bringing many personal items, but he just couldn't bring himself to leave behind the stuffed tiger he'd had since he was still a child in South Holland. He received it for his fifth birthday, three years before they left Europe, and he wasn't about to part with it now.

The train ride to Granary was long, but it gave him plenty of time to look over the file he was given. It contained information on his new teammates, his new weapons, and the general area he would be fighting in. There were eight others that he would be working with, who had all been there at least a year already. He checked his hair in the reflection on the train's window, making sure every single blonde hair on his head was in place. First impressions gave no second chances, and he wasn't about to have his new coworkers thinking he was just some kid from Michigan. His reflection mirrored the frown that suddenly appeared on his face. He had to admit, the fact that his new purpose was to kill others had him a little unnerved. That was the first time he doubted he had made the right decision.

He arrived at the station closest to Granary in the late afternoon. A man whom he assumed was his team's Sniper was waiting for him at the station. He seemed rather uninterested in pleasantries, and instead immediately loaded the new Medic's belongings into the waiting pickup truck.

"Lets go," the Australian growled at Wilhelm once the bags were loaded. Both climbed into the cab of the truck, and without another word, the Sniper started the machine and they were off to Granary. The silent drive put the boy on edge. If his whole team was this hostile, he was going to have a very hard time working with them.

Soon enough, Granary came into view. The base was a large building; with nine men housed within it had to be. From what he had heard, the Heavy Weapons Specialist alone was as big as three of him. The Sniper pulled up to the nearest door and parked the truck as the new Medic jumped out. He was excited to meet the rest of the team, though more nervous now that he had met the Sniper.

"Go on in," grumbled the Sniper as he unloaded the bags, "Soldier's waitin' for ya in the Intelligence Room. I told him to be noice to ya, but I'd brace moiself if I were you. He can get a bit…enthused. I'll go find the Engineer to help me get these up to your room."

Wilhelm nodded and entered the building. It was labyrinthine, but luckily there were signs to direct him through the base. He followed the signs for the Intelligence Room, and took note of the ones that led to the Infirmary; he would need to know where he would be working. After wandering the corridors for a few minutes, he finally found the Soldier.

"You're late, Maggot," He barked as soon as he laid eyes on the new recruit, "I was expecting you twenty minutes ago. What took you so long?"

"S-S-Sorry," he stuttered in embarrassment, "I-It took longer t-to get here than I thought it would."

"Hmmm," he grunted, glaring down at the shorter man, "Right. Down to business then. Breakfast is at 6 am, sharp. You're expected to arrive dressed and ready for action by that time every morning. Dinner is at 6 pm each evening. Ceasefire begins at 5 pm every evening and ends at 9 am every morning. Sundays and Saturdays are designated as 24-hour ceasefires. Lights out is at 10 pm. No excuses. Clear?"

"Y-Yessir."

"Your quarters and weapons are to be kept tidy and in pristine condition. Laundry is to be done every week, your uniform must be kept spotless…" and he continued on. A lot of what he said had been in the file Wilhelm had been given to read through, so he tuned the Soldier out for a while. Instead, he focused on not looking like a complete fool. Straighten your back. Pull back your shoulders. Heels together. Arms folded across your chest. Look like you're paying attention.

"…and I expect you to remember all of that, EVERY SINGLE DETAIL, MAGGOT," he continued to yell at Wilhelm, "Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-Yes sir."

Dang, he would have to work on that stutter.

"DISMISSED, MAGGOT!"

Wilhelm turned sharply on his heel, belying how startled and frightened he was at the Soldier's outburst. He made his way back through the halls, trying to find his way to the infirmary, since he hadn't seen any signs for the dormitories. Eventually, he found his way to the metal double doors adorned with red crosses. He paused before entering; imagining the state it would be in.

When he finally did enter his new workspace, he found it much to his liking. All of the shelves and cabinets were labeled with their contents. There were four beds lined up against the back wall, all separated by screens. There was a door on the left side of the room that led to a well-equipped operating theatre. Another door on the right side of the Infirmary led to what was probably meant to be his private office, as one wall was completely lined with empty bookshelves. Overall, he was quite pleased with the setup.

His attention was so wholly invested in examining his surroundings that he hadn't heard the Sniper come in until he spoke.

"Thought I'd find you here," the man growled as Wilhelm jumped at the sudden noise, "All your stuff is up in your room. Come on. I wager no one's shown you yet."

Surprisingly, the residential rooms were not too far from the Infirmary, just a few hallways and a flight of stairs away. Wilhelm was relieved to find all of his belongings had made it safely, and even more relieved when the Sniper left him alone to unpack. Something about that man simply left him feeling hunted.

After he had everything put away, including his tiger, he plopped down onto his bed in a huff. He felt exhausted, like he had already been at the base for an entire day, but it had only been a couple of hours. He looked over at Samson, whom he had placed next to his pillow. What kind of man was he that he still kept a stuffed animal with him as he slept? He sighed; confused with himself and the reason he was here. What on earth had possessed him to want to join in corporate warfare? That was the second time he doubted his decision.

Suddenly, there was a knock at his door, and a rather short man in a hardhat stuck his head in the room. Wilhelm quickly shoved the tiger out of sight.

"Hey," he began, after he was invited in, "Dinner's almost ready if you plan on joining us. My name's Simon, by the way, I'm the Engineer."

The younger man stood and accepted the offered handshake, and introduced himself in turn.

"Wilhelm Akkerman."

"Pleasure to meet you, Doc," he said as he and Wilhelm made their way to the dining hall. Everyone else was there waiting for them, except for the Heavy, who, judging by the sounds coming from the kitchen, was the one preparing the meal.

There were three seats open at the end of the table closest to the door, two of which were then occupied by Wilhelm and the Simon. Soldier sat stock-still near the other end of the table with a spoon in hand; ready to attack whatever meal floated his way. The Sniper was also at the other end of the table, currently intent on carving something out of a wood block in his hands. The man whom he presumed was the Spy sat directly across from the Sniper, trying to hold a conversation with the unresponsive marksman. It wasn't hard to pick out the Demoman, his head on the table next to the Sniper, probably unconscious from previously ingested alcohol. The Pyro was also relatively easy to spot, being covered from head to toe in a flame-retardant suit and gas mask, seated on the Engineer's other side and next to the Spy. Directly across from Wilhelm was a young man, probably close to his own age, who he guessed was the Scout.

Unlike the Scout across from him, Wilhelm sat quietly, hoping not to be noticed. True, Simon had been civil, even kind, to him, but if the rest of the team was anything like the Soldier and Sniper, the young Medic doubted he would want to speak to them.

At that moment, the Heavy appeared, and he was every bit as huge and menacing as Wilhelm had anticipated. He bore a huge pot of steaming liquid in his hands, and a terrifying grin on his face. It took everything within the boy to keep from whimpering in the presence of this behemoth.

"Stew is ready!" the huge man nearly shouted in excitement, setting the pot on the table, "Tonight we celebrate new Doktor!"

If the huge man had not completely terrified Wilhelm yet, he certainly did when he enveloped the young doctor in an enormous bear hug. It was quite the feat, picking the boy up out of his seat and thwarting his escape attempts at the same time. The look of panic on his face must have reached the other mercenaries, as most of them began to chuckle, or outright burst into laughter like the Scout. Wilhelm felt his face turn a deep shade of crimson.

"Alright, Viktor, that's enough," Simon said as he tried to pry the giant off of the tiny Medic, "I think you've scared him into never eating with us again!"

With a grunt that sounded like disappointment, the Heavy finally set Wilhelm back in his seat. He straightened his back and tried to look unfazed by the ordeal. He would not be seen as a scared child in front of his team, but he again had to try to maintain a straight face when the Heavy sat down in the seat next to him. In all honesty, the boy was terrified.

"Am sorry, Doktor," the Heavy apologized after sitting down, "Was just excited to finally meet you. Other Doktor was… not very nice man. Did not like bear hugs or helping people, only wanted experiments. Did not care if we die in battle. All was glad when he retire. But you look like nice Doktor! My name is Viktor, leetle Scout is named Paul, Soldier is Mark, Sniper is Carl, Engineer is Simon, Demo is Jeremiah, and Spy is Philippe. No one knows name of Pyro. What is your name?"

Viktor was probably the most talkative of the bunch. No one else besides Simon had introduced themselves to him, and he figured that was fine. His file said he would be working with the Heavy quite a bit, so he assumed the larger man would talk enough for both of them.

"W-Wilhelm A-Akkerman," the young Medic said, trying to steady his voice, "Y-You can call me Will."

"Where ya from, Doc?" asked Paul immediately after the Medic was through speaking.

"M-Michigan," came the answer, "But I was born in South Holland."

"Is pleasure to meet you" concluded the Heavy, "I look forward to working with new Doktor."

The rest of dinner was passed in much the same fashion, with Wilhelm simply answering questions. Even though lights out wasn't for another few hours, he was completely exhausted and decided to turn in early. He would need as much strength as he could get for the coming morning.


End file.
